


Graphic depictions of the failure of humanity

by faemischief



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brutal Murder, Character Death, Gore, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faemischief/pseuds/faemischief
Summary: I wanted to work on writing scenes, and also murder sooooo.... here.CW: for mentioned kidnapping, murder, gore, blood
Kudos: 3





	Graphic depictions of the failure of humanity

The walls were coated dusty maroon already, and a small cage stood alone in the middle of the room. The bars were rusty, and only the latch was clean, showing that it was frequently opened. Inside sat someone shivering in fear. Their hands and feet were tied together, and their mouth was gagged. They had shoved themself into a corner and were trying their best to make themself seem as small as possible. Their fingers were bloody, and their nails were all but gone. Their legs were scrapped and filthy. Their clothes were covered in dirt and torn in several places. Everything reeked. The air was frigid, but the amount of rot made it stuffy, and difficult to breathe. In one corner of the room lay a pile of skeletons covered in bite marks with small pieces of rotting meat still attached.

Footsteps sounded before the wooden door creaked open. A dark figure surveyed the room, before stepping over a wet patch of blood. The person in the cage began to cry in earnest as the figure bent over to unlock the cage. 

They opened the cage roughly and stuck in a gleaming blade that caught the light from a cobweb-covered lightbulb in the corner of the room. 

“Get up,” The voice was rough and demanding. The person in the cage whimpered and moved to leave the cage. 

Their joints cracked as the figure forced them into the cleanest corner of the room. 

“I’ve been painting the floor recently. Do you like it?” 

Their eyes widened before the gag was ripped from their mouth. 

“Answer me.” 

“Y-yes I-it’s very nice,”

The figure hummed in dissatisfaction, “I think you will be my very last bit of paint. Lucky, lucky, lucky number thirteen. What should I do with you?” They said, voice betraying the glee that coursed through them. They leaned closer to thirteen, “The mural will be complete, and then it will be my pride and my joy. A testament to my power.” 

As they were talking, they lifted the blade to thirteen’s neck, and they sliced through the artery, grinning maniacally. Thirteen’s eyes still looking around in fear and the dawning realization of what had just occurred. Blood gushed out of where thirteen’s neck had been moments before, and the last spots of grey cement on the floor turned a dull red. The clothing of the figure was wet and continued until they were drenched in the blood. Lifting the blade, they brought it to their mouth, before running their tongue around the salty liquid. Their posture sagged in relief, and they licked all of the blood that had dripped onto their hands.  


They then began to chop it into smaller pieces and grabbed the head bringing it, and the torso back out of the basement the way they had come in.


End file.
